


Fighting to Live

by EmeraldChick96



Category: Words on Bathroom Walls - Julia Walton
Genre: Adam Angst, Adam needs a hug, BAMF Momma Petrazelli, BAMF Paul, F/M, Hospitalization, Self Harm Thoughts, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-29
Updated: 2020-08-08
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:40:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 11,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25599724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmeraldChick96/pseuds/EmeraldChick96
Summary: After Adam throws up in the bathroom, he goes home sick, but soon develops suicidal thoughts. As they worsen, he has to go to a partial hospitalization program, and get some medicine adjusted. While he is trying to balance school and schizophrenia, his friends start to notice, and soon he has to tell them what is going on preparing himself for rejection. But he learns, that love is unconditional, and friendship knows no boundaries.
Relationships: Adam/Maya
Kudos: 9





	1. Migraines and Menstrual Cramps

Chapter 1: Migraines and Menstrual Cramps

Dont know Maya’s last name. If you can find it and tell me NICELY I will be glad to correct it.

It took me fifteen minutes to clean the vomit from the urinal, and then ten more minutes to stop shaking. Ian’s words are just ringing in my ears. When I finally got all the way to my classroom, Sister Ruby made a big deal when I got there.

“Mr. Petezelli, Where have you been?” She insists by calling everyone by our last names thinking it will make us sound more mature.

“Bathroom.”

“What were you doing?”

“Puking.”

The whole class erupted with laughter. 

“Enough,” she yelled. She took a deep breath, and looked at me with eyes that were now sympathetic. “I think you better go see the nurse.”

“I’m fine.”

“Mr. Petezelli, its school policy. I insist.”

“I’ll take him,” said Maya, standing up.

“Thank you, Miss. Garcia.”

We walked out of the door, and she lead me down the hall.

“I’m fine. I don’t like have anything,” I said.

“How do you know?” she asked.

Because it was a reaction to stress. “I’m just tired.”

“That’s stupid.”

I smiled. Maya always says what she means.

She led me to the nurses office, and we had to sit for a minute because some twelfth grade girl needed some Midol for her period.

“Can you stay out here?” I asked Maya. “Just in case they have to like check me out for something.”

“Sure.”

I breathed a sigh of relief. It was perfectly normal to her that she would walk me to the nurses station, wait for an answer, then report back to our teacher. 

The nurse came out, and looked at us. “Oh my, are you both sick?”

“No, I just walked him here,” explained Maya. “I’m gonna wait on him.”

“Alright, come on dear,” said the nurse and I walked into the room and she shut the door. The room looked like a typical doctor's office, cotton balls, tongue depressors, charts of the human body, cabinets. There were also two small crucifixes on opposing walls, and a prayer for healing on the door.

I clambered up onto the table, and fought the urge to bring my knees into my chest.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

“I am Adam Petrazelli,” I said. “I’m the kid with schizophrenia.”

She nodded.

“You heard about that kid in Sandy Hook.”

“Yes that poor boy.”

“Well, people keep talking about it, and I feel like I am losing my shit.” I started crying, which is weird because I am really huge, and I must look like a giant crying. “Some guys were talking about it, and I felt like they were talking about me, and I threw up in the bathroom, and I just…”

“You just can't do this today,” she finished.

“Is there a way we can call my mom, without telling people that, you know I’m crazy.”

“Yes, sweetheart. I will call your mom, and since you actually got sick I can tell people you have the stomach flu and you can be out as long as you want.”

I nodded.

“Can I tell you a secret, Adam?”

“Sure.”

“The chaplin and I talk, we keep tabs on you kids. There are kids here who are depressed, bipolar, ADHD, ADD, anorexic, bulimic, recovering alcoholics and drug addicts, anxiety disorder, and conduct disorder. And we know them all. From 8 am to 3 pm you are our babies. And if God gave us a schizophrenic baby, then that is okay too. You are no different than the rest of them.”

“I thought you are all waiting for me to lose my shit and kill someone,” I said.

“If we thought you were in that dire straits, you wouldn't be at school, honey,” she said.

I nodded. I wasn’t so crazy they thought I needed to be locked up. She picked up the phone by her desk and handed it to me. I dialed my moms work number.

“Hello,” came my mom.

“Hey,” I said.

“Adam, what's wrong?”

“I need to come home.”

“Baby, what happened?”

“Nothing. I threw up.”

“Why are you crying?”

I didn’t say anything.

“Where are you?”

“The nurse.”

“Give me to her.”

I gave the phone to the nurse. “Hello, Mrs. Petezelli… No. No. It looks like just a stomach ache. No fever… Yes he is fine, very lucid… I’ll ask.” She took the phone away, and asked me, “Did you take your medication this morning?”

I nodded.

“He said yes,” she said. “Alright, be careful, we will see you in thirty minutes. Want to talk to Adam?”

She handed me the phone.

“Hey Mom,” I said.

“I am grabbing my purse, and leaving right now. My boss is looking at me. My son is sick at school, I got to take the day off. He nodded. We are in the clear.”

I laughed at the play by play. My mom was worried about me.

“I will see you soon, honey,” she said.

“Okay,” I said.

She hung up. I gave the phone back to the nurse.

“Do you want some music?” she asked.

I shook my head no.

“Alright, try to take a nap, she will be here soon.”

I closed my eyes and tried to get some sleep.

“Adam,” came a whisper and a nudge. “Adam.”

I opened my eyes to my mom smiling at me. I had stopped crying, and I had a really bad headache, but I couldn’t tell if it was from the medicine or from crying.

“Hey,” I said grinning.

“Hi, baby, ready to go?”

I nodded.

“Sign him out here, and you won’t have to sign him out at the front,” said the nurse.

Mom signed the paper.

The bell rang.

“Is class started or is class over?” I asked,

“Class is over,” said the nurse.

“I want to say thanks to Maya,” I said to mom.

“Sure, grab your stuff for a few days, say bye to Maya, and meet me at the front.”

“A few days?”

Mom and the nurse exchanged glances. “We think it is best that you stay home while the whole thing that happened up North blows over.”

“Won’t people talk?” I asked.

“About what?” asked the nurse. “Remember how I told you there are a lot of kids here with mental health issues. A girl can come to me with depression, and I can tell her teachers its menstrual cramps, and no one questions me.”

“Menstrual cramps? I have to be something believable.”

“I know that,” she said with a tsk. “You're on ToZaPrex right? Isn't one of the main side effects headaches. How about a migraine, that lasts all weekend. Which is perfect, because a symptom of a migraine is vomiting.”

“People might actually buy that,” I said thinking, “because my medicine gives me headaches all the time.”

“I’m offended, Adam. Do you think they would make just anyone the school nurse?”

I smiled.

“How about you go home and rest and we try this all over again Monday.”

“Sounds great!” said my mom. 

We left the office and went to go get my stuff. It took me a second to pack up and then I went and found Maya walking to English.

“Hey.”

“Hey, what they say?”

“Probably a chronic migraine that induced vomiting. I need to go home and chill. I won't be back till Monday.”

She stopped in her tracks and looked me dead in the eye. “Are you ever going to stop lying to me?”

“Seriously, I won't be back till Monday.”

“Adam!”

“I can't tell you everything here.”

“Then tell me something.”

I sighed. “The whole Sandy Hook thing is upsetting me to the point where I can't keep anything on my stomach,” I said. “The nurse and my mom think I need to do school work at home because people won't shut up about it here.”

She nodded, and stared off into the distance, like she was processing the information. “So it’s stress, and you are going home until this becomes a safer environment, hopefully, Monday.”

“Yeah.”

She kissed me on the cheek. “Now that makes sense. I’ll come by every day and tell you what you missed in class. Don’t just sit on the couch and watch stories about him. Cook something.”

“Yes ma’am.”

“And stop lying to me,” she ordered, and she spun on her heel and went to class.


	2. If It Pleases The Court

Mom and I were driving home.

“What do I need to tell my teachers?” I asked my mom.

“The nurse is going to tell them that you have a migraine that is upsetting your stomach and you cant get any work done, and they need to email you your assignments and you will get them done when you can focus.”

“But they know I have schizophrenia right? So why not just tell them what happened.”

“They have ‘need to know’ privileges. They need to know your symptoms in case something happens during class, so they can address it. They do not need to know specifics of why you had to go home today.”

“Isn’t that making up the rules as we go along?”

“No. That is your right to privacy. When you are on that campus, they need information to protect you, and I will give them that. I will tell the nurses the medicines and the side effects, and they can circulate what information they deem necessary, so if you have a seizure in the cafeteria someone with a brain calls 911. But when you are off that campus, you are none of their business.”

I smiled. Then I thought a minute, and said, “The nurse said that I wasn’t the only one there with a mental health issue. She said a lot of girls had depression and eating disorders and anxiety. And there a lot of guys with mood disorders and anger issues and shit.”

“She probably shouldn't have told you that,” Mom said laughing. “But I am glad that she did. That is actually why we picked this school. Paul found it. One of his co-workers' kids is bipolar and she had a manic episode at the school, and they knew exactly what to do. The priests and the nuns all watch the kids really well.”

“Wait, Paul picked this school because he thought they would take care of me?”

“Well, did you think we were Catholic and didn’t tell you?”

I said nothing, but I was kind of glad that Paul was looking out for me.

We ate our dinner in silence, and I was ready for the shoe to drop any minute and there to be a barrage of questions. I made chicken enchiladas for dinner, it felt good to cook.

“So your stomach must be better,” said Paul. “To make Mexican for dinner.”

I sighed. “I really did throw up. I would have forensic evidence if it pleases the court, but I can’t have my fucking phone in class.”

“Adam!” said my mother.

I looked down at my plate and started pushing the chicken around. I don’t get it, I found out he is a good guy and then he is a douchebag when I come home.

He looked at my mother. “You try,” he said.

“Adam, what is going on?” said my mom.

“I had a bad day. I’ll sleep it off.”

“Adam, I need to take you to a doctor in the morning,” said my mom. “But you need to tell me if it needs to be a pediatrician, a therapist, or a psychiatrist. If you don't talk to me you're going to all three.”

“Everyone is talking about Sandy Hook at school,” I said.

They sat there staring at me waiting to continue.

“They all said that the guy was schizophrenic.”

“He had OCD,” said my mom.

“And aspergers,” said Paul. “Not schizophrenia.”

“His name was Adam,” I whispered.

“So was the first man,” said Paul. “You gonna stop eating apples so you don’t damn humanity to hell.”

Mom laughed. I cracked a smile.

“One guy said everyone like him should be shot,” I whispered. “That’s when I threw up.”

No one said anything for a minute. Then I heard Mom start to sob. She didn’t cry loud. She just put her hand in her lap and started to sniffle, like when she found out I had schizophrenia, and it wasn’t my spectacles.

“Does this guy have a name?” asked Paul.

I shrugged.

Paul stared me down, but I didn’t say anything. I knew Ian was untouchable.

Finally, he broke away. “He goes to that doctor on Wednesday?” he asked my mother.

“Yes, but he doesn't talk to them,” she said. “He writes everything down on paper, and they pass notes back and forth.”

“That’s not good,” muttered Paul.

I rolled my eyes. “Sorry I don't express myself the way everyone wants me to.”

“Shut up for one minute,” yelled Paul. “You go through more pressure in one day than a marine goes through in a tour of Iraq, and now this kid is telling you to off yourself! I can’t tell if you can handle it, or if I need to do something, so shut up and let me think.”

“You think Mob Boss or Rupert is gonna get me up at three in the morning and tell me to kill my own mother and I am gonna do it?! Is that why you hid all the fucking knives? I would never touch my mother!”

“I know that!” yelled Paul standing up from the dinner table.

I stood up too, and I towered over him. I liked that, it gave me the authority. Kinda.

“Then why the hell do you treat me like I am a monster ready to snap?” 

“You think your mother is the only person here who talks to the fucking doctors. They send me reports on how you were doing, and I got a couple in a row saying that you wanted to hurt yourself. I know everyone talks about schizophrenia as a violent disease, but in a study I read less than fifteen percent of eight thousand patients had a violent crime history. That’s low. But in another study, 60% of male schizophrenics tried to kill themselves. Ten to fifteen percent actually die.”

“So you put the fucking knives up to what? Make sure you don't have a crazy person you have to bury.”

“I hid the fucking knives,” said Paul, crying. “To protect my son.”

“What?”

“You're my son,” he said. “And I can’t let anything hurt you. So I put the knives up.”

I breathed for a minute. I was crying like crazy, and snot was running down my nose. I thought this whole time they thought I was going to do something to them, but instead they were worried I was going to do something to myself. I let a wave rush over me. It was this like animalistic protection, like a lioness protecting her cub. But this time it was a lion protecting his cub. And I was the cub. I tried to remember the last time someone tried to protect me, who wasn’t my mom. I think it was never.

I slumped back down at the kitchen table, and this whole day was about to overpower me.

“You're exhausted,” said my mom. “Go get ready for bed.”

I nodded and obeyed.

Jason showered with me, which was awkward but you know. I changed into a t-shirt and sweatpants, and crawled in bed. Rebecca was lying there, and she did not care that I wished she was Maya, she was just happy to be next to me.

“Hi honey,” came my mom, walking in.

“Hey,” I said.

“Everyone being good?”

“We are all down for the night.”

She smiled, and kissed my forehead. Then she put her hand on it feeling for a fever.

“I’m okay mom,” I said. “I could probably go to school tomorrow.”

“Absolutely not,” she said. “You are staying right where I can keep an eye on you.” She kissed me again, and tucked me in.

I felt kind of stupid, I hadn’t been tucked in like a child in a while, but it was nice, after everything to feel this safe.

Mom left and my phone buzzed.

“Hey, how do you feel?” texted Maya.

“Im fine. But mom is dragging me to a doctor tomorrow.”

In a minute she texted back. “I thought you got upset about what people were saying about Sandy Hook. What can a doctor do?”

I sighed. “It’s kind of a shrink,” I replied.

I put my phone down and sighed, realizing I just told my girlfriend I was crazy. She didn’t know why I was crazy, but she knew I was crazy.

My phone binged. “I’m proud of you.”


	3. Im In Trouble

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Thoughts of Suicide and Self Harm

The doctors appointment was at ten o’clock, which actually let me sleep in a little bit. Mom got me there at nine fifty, and we saw the girl come out and leave with her mom who was a patient before me. She had a dull look in her eye, like a zombie, and I got a knot in my stomach. What did I look like?

The shrink poked her head out, and said my name. I gave a look to mom, like please don't make me do this, and she countered with, “Do you want me to go with you?”

That got me up and moving, because as horrible as I felt, I did not need me mom there holding my fucking hand. I walked into the shrink's office and let her close the door.

The office had a weird hippie style to it, but thank god there were no like healing crystals or salt rocks. It was just kind of mellow and relaxing.

Mob Boss was sitting in the big chair, Jason was on the couch taking up half of it, the twins were taking up the other half, and Rebecca was sitting in the swing.

I walked over to Rebecca and my eyes said, “do you mind standing?”

She smiled, and twirled out of the wicker swing. I sat down, and she sat back down in my lap, her long legs brushing against mine, and her head against my chest.

“Why that chair?” asked the shrink.

My mom told me not to lie to this doctor, and I figured I couldn’t get locked up because I brought my imaginary friends to therapy.

“She is the nicest,” I said. “I knew she wouldn’t mind moving.”

The shrink nodded.

“So you have hallucinations,” said the shrink.

“You think that makes me crazy?” I asked.

“No, I was just making an observation. Stating a fact. What good is it going to do if we waste time debating if you have hallucinations?”

Already this shrink reminded me of Maya. I like that.

“When did you start having them?”

“I was twelve.”

“Your mom said you are on a new drug. Are you consistent with it?”

I nodded.

“Is it helping?”

I nodded.

“Good.” She sighed. “You want to tell me why me? Why now?”

“I have been to a lot of psychiatrists and not a lot of shrinks ‘cause they keep telling my mom its a neurological condition and medicine is the best thing for me.”

She nodded.

“But,” I paused. I didn’t know what to say. “Something happened and they want me to talk to a shrink now.”

“What happened?”

“Someone at school said that people with mental illnesses should be shot.”

“What was their reasoning?”

“He said we're dangerous, but I think he knows about me and just wanted to see me squirm.”

“How do you feel about that?”

This is why I hate shrinks. I hate that question. I got a lump in my throat, and I felt like I was going to cry, and I hate crying. 

“I know I am not going to get shot,” I whispered. “But I am scared that people think like that. What if people just want me gone because I am too much to handle, or I am a monster? Maybe we should be shot.”

“Or maybe it was a jerk who just wanted to see you squirm,” she said.

“It's not just him,” I whispered. “My mom is pregnant and my step grandma wants me kept away from the baby. She won't say it in so many words, but that is what she wants. She thinks I am a monster too.”

“Do you think a lot of people want you to die?” she asked.

I nodded.

“Do you want to die?”

“Sometimes. I think it would make the voices go away.”

“Have you ever told someone you want to die?”

“Yeah. The stupid psychiatrist who checks on me for the drug trial.”

“How many times?”

“Once.”

“Did you want to actually die?”

“Yeah I meant it.”

“Do you have a plan to die?”

“I guess cutting myself would be easiest.”

“Do you have an option to cut yourself?”

“Yeah there are knives in the kitchen.”

“When would you do it?”

“Don’t know. When I thought about it.”

“Do you think you might actually do it?”

“Yeah. If I get pushed far enough.”

“Okay, sit tight, and I am gonna get Mom.” She got up and walked out of the room. Mob Boss fired off a round which made me jump. Rebecca came and held my hand. She was crying, and I knew I was in trouble.

In a minute they came back, and my mom sat down beside me. She didn’t hold my hand, which I appreciated.

“Well,” said the therapist. “I know Adam is on medication for schizophrenia but is he on any medication for depression?”

My mom shook her head.

“Okay, I did a suicide assesment. I asked Adam four questions, and he answered them, and I rate his answers on a scale of one to four, with four being the highest. If he scores over a seven, he is a risk.”

My mom nodded.

“He got an eleven,” she said. “So I think we need to go to the hospital and see if we can change some meds around to get you feeling better okay.”

My mom cried, but nodded.

“Do you want mom to drive you, or should we take an ambulance?”

I looked at Mom, who said through her tears. “I’ll drive him,” she said.

When I got to the hospital, they striped me down, and made me change into some blue scrubs. I got into bed. Everyone came in, a physical doctor who had to make sure I had not done something stupid, nurses, including Maya’s mom, and a security officer who stayed in my room., and just watched me like he had nothing better to do, and a psychiatrist.

Paul had gotten here, and just stood in the doorway and watched me. Mom sat by my bed and cried. Rebecca was sitting at the foot of the bed and cried with my mom. I just kind of sat there numbly and thought about how this was the end of my life.

“Can I call her?” I asked Mom.

She looked to the security officer. “He wants to call his girlfriend,” she said.

He nodded.

She handed me her phone and I called Mayas number I knew by heart. Maya picked up on the third ring.

“Hello?”

“Its Adam. I am using my mom’s phone.”

“Why?”

“They took mine.”

“Why?”

I sighed. “I am in the hospital.”

“What? For a migraine?”

“No,” I sighed. She didn’t deserve to be told I was crazy over the phone.

“Where are you?”

“Hospital downtown.”

“Central?”

“Yeah.”

“ER?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m on my way.”

“Wait! Maya-” Click.


	4. No More Secrets

It took twenty-two minutes for Maya’s head to come into the doorway. Twenty-two minutes and forty-seven seconds, I counted.

“Ma’am purse outside,” said the security guard. Maya obeyed and came in. She was wearing her school uniform still, and I wondered if school just got out.

“What time is it?” I asked.

“4:30. You called in the middle of debate team.”

“Sister Katherine is gonna be pissed.”

“I told her I just found out you were in the hospital. She let me go. Dwight is here with me. They are making him wait.”

I nodded.

“What’s wrong with you?”

I sighed. “This isn’t how I wanted you to find out. I never wanted you to find out, but I guess we're here. I am schizophrenic, and sometimes with that you can get suicidal, and things are just bad right now.”

“Because of the shooter in Connecticut?”

“Because of everything,” I whispered and didn’t elaborate.

She nodded. Then she came and sat on the bed. Holding my hand, she put her head on my chest, then she leaned up and kissed me. She draped her arm over me, and kicked off her shoes. We fell asleep just like that.

They woke me up to check my temperature and blood pressure. Somehow, Dwight had gotten there, and was in his uniform. 

“What are you doing here?” asked him.

“My best friend hears voices that tell him to die. Where do you want me to be?”

I smiled. I realized that Dwight was my best friend. Even though we were both awkward as hell.

Then the nurse said that the psychiatrist had made a decision, and wanted to come talk to me. I nodded but felt sick to my stomach.

The psychiatrist stepped in, and smiled at me. “How do you feel, Adam?”

“Been better.”

He nodded. “I need one parent in here to stay in the room, but if you want some privacy everyone else can step out.”

I sighed. “No more secrets. They can stay.”

“Alright. Many schizophrenia patients have thoughts of suicide from the voices and that can be controlled from schizophrenia medication. However, according to your doctor at the clinical trial, you have suggested suicidal thoughts while on ToZaPrex. He said he was monitoring you, but the truth is that means that the drug is not going to work for your system. We need to find a new drug that will work, and add an antidepressant that will make you feel well again. According to your therapist, you scored a pretty high score on the suicide assesment. We are going to monitor you here overnight. But my current suggestion is an outpatient psychiatric program from 8-3, with a lunch break. This will go on for about eight weeks. While you are doing that we can get you used to a new drug.”

“Eight weeks!” I screamed. “I am going to take two months off of school. I’m gonna have to drop out! I’m not fucking doing that!”

“Well your other option is the psychiatric ward, which I don't know how long they will take to stabilize you.”

“I'm not unstable,” I muttered.

My mom ran her fingers through my hair. “Thank you doctor. Can we discuss it?”

“Sure,” said the doctor, and walked out.

No one said anything for a minute, as my mom kind of ran her fingers through my hair and kissed my cheek.

“Adam,” said Maya. “How long does it take to graduate culinary school?”

“A year,” I said.

“Well, that will suck if you try to do it with thoughts of suicide on all the time. However, if you take a year off now and feel better, get on the right medicine. Then come back to school. You can go graduate and feel fine. No one at a restaurant asks how old the chef is anyway.”

I smiled at her logic. “So yall think I should do it?”

“Dude,” said Dwight. “You kind of want to off yourself. If they can fix that, you should do whatever they tell you.”

“When I come back to school, I’ll be a year behind you.”

“You will have all your homework done for half the year,” said Dwight.

“And guess we can let a Junior sit at the Senior table,” joked Maya.

“I won't be there for prom,” I said.

“I detest prom,” said Maya.

“Hey, we can have a dance on the roof of my building!” said Dwight. “My mom can help me set it up.”

“That’s not a bad idea,” said Maya. “My mom can help.”

“I’ll help to,” said my mom.

“And Ian won't be there,” grinned Maya.

I nodded. “So everyone thinks I should do this?”

“Well,” said Dwight. “It’s kind of this or psych ward, which both sound like they suck. Your choice man.”

“I don’t want to be crazy,” I whispered.

“You're not crazy, Adam,” said Paul. “You don't feel well.”

“The outpatient, obviously,” I said. “That way I can come home and sleep in my own bed.”

“And you get the weekends off,” said Dwight. “For tennis!”

“And dates,” said Maya, smiling.

I smiled back. “Fine, I'll do it.”

Rebecca twirled, happy with my decision. I don't think she got that if I got better, I would see her less.


	5. Pertially Insane

On Monday morning, my mom dropped me off at the hospital. It was really out of the way for everyone, so people were going to take turns driving me there. We went in and signed some paperwork, my mom had to sign a few things because I was a minor, then the therapist came and got us.

“Hi, I am Sarah,” she said.

I could tell right away she was a bitch. First, she was wearing a two thousand dollar outfit at a hospital for psych patients, who does that? Second, she addressed my mom, not me, like I was too mentally handicapped to understand what “Hi, I am Sarah,” meant, even though people with schizophrenia are ridiculously intelligent. Yeah I am gonna hate it here.

“Hi, I am Adam, and this is my mom, Anna Petrazelli.”

She looked at me like she was impressed that I can form a sentence, or knew what my fucking mom’s name was.

“Nice to meet you,” she said sweetly.

I turned to my mom. “Okay, you caught me, I fold. I lied to the shrink to get out of finals. We are dissecting a frog in biology tomorrow and I just didn’t want to go. I am fine. I love life. Fit as a fiddle. Happy, normal teen. Let's go home.” I turned and made a beeline for the door.

She grabbed my arm, “Oh no you don’t. We have a deal. No psych ward for six weeks of this, and you young man are a man of your word.”

“Technically, I am schizophrenic so you can't really trust a word I say.”

“Adam Petrazelli!”

“Oh come on,” said Sarah. “It will be fun,” and she led us towards an office.

As I followed her, I turned back toward my mom. “I highly doubt this will decrease my desire to perish.”

“Go!” ordered my mom.

I trudged along behind the therapist.

Mom left me here. She actually left me here, with therapy barbie. She just gave me a kiss on the forehead and went to work. I was so fucking pissed. Sarah made her sign a bunch of papers explaining what we would be doing for the next six weeks, none of which sounded like it was actually helpful, and mom just signed my soul away, gave me a kiss, and left. I have never felt more abandoned in my life.

We had our morning check in. Basically, we all went around a table and said how we were doing. One kid said he was a two, basically because a one meant you were actually cutting yourself. I said I was a five. Sarah asked what was wrong.

“I got a headache and I am here because a shrink told my mom I was gonna off myself. So a five is the best I can do,” I said a little too harshly.

Sarah just nodded and wrote something down on a piece of paper, like I just told her I was sad because it was raining outside.

“Brittney,” she said, “How are you?”

“Bout a seven. I feel good, but the meds are making me sleepy. I like that it is raining outside.”

Sarah nodded. “Okay. Today we are going to do some education. So here are your worksheets. Can anyone tell me why it is called schizophrenia?”

Several hands went up.

We were eating lunch, and I had decided that I pretty much hated this place. I was not learning anything here. Most of my “coping skills” needed to come from taking my medicine which did not work. I had a headache all morning, and I wanted just to get out of here. Unfortunately, there were about two and a half more hours until I could go home, and then I had to do make up work for school.

Suddenly, the couch moved, and shook myself from my thoughts to see Britney sitting beside me.

“So, new guy, what’s your story?”

“I dont have a story.”

“Well you said in group you were gonna off yourself, so you must of had thoughts but not a plan, or you did something to freak everybody out, because clearly you are here against your will.”

I sighed. “I told my shrink that I wanted to die. They took me to the hospital for an assessment. I scored high enough to get the option of here or the psych ward. I chose here.”

“Wow, you are really stupid. Why would you tell someone you want to die?”

“Its the only way to stay in the trial. I thought the drugs weren’t working, and if I told them I was sick they would get me more. I had no idea they would put me here.”

“Your in a drug trial?”

“Its called ToZaPrex. It’s amazing shit.”

“When does it go on the market?”

“I don’t know.”

“How were you gonna, you know?”

“I didn’t have a plan. Its why I am not in lock down psych.”

“Well, you told them you don’t have a plan.”

I sighed. This girl was as intuitive as Maya.

I sighed. "Knives."

She nodded. "Yeah there my thing too."

"How long have you been here?"

"A week."

"Does it help?"

She shrugged.

"Perfect."

I waited for my moms van to come and pick me up, but instead Paul’s car pulled in. My look must have made him warrant an explanation.

“Your mom is at the OBGYN,” he said.

I nodded. I did not need information about that. I got into the car, and buckled up.

Paul took off, but we didn’t head home like I thought we were going.

“Where are we going?”

“Surprise,” he said.

Great! I thought. He is finally gonna bury the crazy person in the woods.

Turns out the surprise was Dairy Queen, which I hadn’t had in a long time. I got a banana split, which Paul let me eat all by myself even though it would ruin my dinner. Paul got a large rocky road blizzard.

“What is mom going to say?” I asked.

“Well, you can make vegetables for dinner and she will just think we are eating healthy because of the pregnancy.”

“You're gonna let me cook?”

“Well, I am gonna help. I want to cut the vegetables. But yeah, you can cook.”

I sighed. Kind of a win.

“What?” he asked.

“Do you ever think I am going to be okay to, you know, cook by myself again?”

“Absolutely,” he said. “You will run your own kitchen in France one day. Your medicine is off right now, something's not right. Even when ToZaPrex was working, you were having thoughts of hurting yourself. They should have added something, or just put you on something different then.”

“Do you think they will ever figure me out?”

“Yep. Maybe you need a different combination. They will figure you out.” He reached over and grabbed my hand. “I promise. You can have any life you can dream of.”

I smiled.

“Eat your ice cream. It's gonna melt,” he ordered.

Mom was home when we got home.

“How did it go?” she asked.

“It sucked. Made a friend though.”

“Okay,” she said. “That is acceptable. I made dinner.”

“Oh,” I said dejected.

“I told him that he didn’t wasn’t going to lose his cooking privileges,” said Paul. “As long as we helped out.”

“Oh, Sarah called me at lunch today and said it was best to have me do the cooking for a little while until everything got stable,” said my mom.

“Fucking bitch,” I said under my breath. I turned to go into my room.

“Honey,” cried my mom.

“Adam!” called Paul.

I answered them by slamming the door.


	6. Chapter 6: An New Plan

My mom came and got me in an hour. “Dinner’s ready,” she said. “I know you didn’t make it but it is hard to mess up hamburger helper.”

Sighing, I got up, and went to the bathroom to wash my hands. We had beef stroganoff. I would have put some more milk in it, and a dash of salt, but I was not going to tell my mother that. It was actually fairly good, and I had two servings, just to make my mom feel god because she never cooks for me. So did Paul.

“How long did Sarah say it would take to get stable?” I asked tentatively.

“You meet with the psychiatrist tomorrow,” said my mom. “She is going to tell you then.”

I nodded.

“Okay everyone,” said Sarah, “today we are going over TIPP skills.” She passed out a worksheet. “TIPP stands for Temperature, Intense exercise, Paced breathing, and Paired muscle relaxation. We use these when we feel like we are going to lose control and we need to regain power. Sound like fun?”

Britney rolled her eyes. “I almost had an orgasm,” she whispered to me sarcastically.

I grinned.

“Okay, so,” started Sarah. She either didn’t hear us or ignored us.

Someone came through the door. “Adam,” said a man in a lab coat.

“Take me with you,” whispered Britney as I stood up. I smiled at her, and followed the man out the door.

“Sorry to interrupt your session,” he said.

“No please,” I said. “Therapy really doesn’t help me.”

“Huh. Well, we are going down here to this office,” he said leading me towards a door at the end of the hall. Inside, there was a small desk with a desktop on top, and a chair for me to sit.

“Im Dr. Damion, my last name is Roach, but I hate being called Dr. Roach. It makes me feel like an insect.”

I laughed.

“So you were on a lot of different meds over the past year. They kind of work for a while then stop or they don’t work?”

“They don’t work.”

“Then you were in a drug trial for ToZaPrex, and what happened with that?”

“It works really good on the hallucinations.”

“Okay,” he said. “Then you started having suicidal thoughts or you had suicidal thoughts and they got worse?”

“I just had a couple of bad days.”

“That didn’t answer my question.”

“They got worse.”

“How bad?”

“I had a plan,” I said.

“Okay,” he said nodding. “Well, people are here for one of two reasons. One, they just got out of the psych ward, and they still feel sick and need monitoring. Or, two, they feel sick and need monitoring, and they are desperately trying to avoid the psych ward. You're the second one. It is not uncommon for schizophrenia males to have thoughts of suicide, even on a anti-psychotic, so they need to be put on an anti-depressent as well. But, ToZaPrex is an all encompassing drug, and when it fails, it fails. We need to get you off ToZaPrex and onto a better medicine for schizophrenia and an antidepressant.”

“Can’t I just take a lot?” I asked.

“No, that will increase the side effects. And it's failing. That means your body has worked up an immunity to it. Adding more will just get you very sick. I am gonna put you on Latuda. We will start you on 40 mg and we are gonna slowly bump it up to 80. When you get older, you can go higher. We are watching you for side effects, it can do some stuff to your muscles if you have an adverse reaction to it.”

“Fuck,” I said.

“Latuda should be an all encompassing drug too. It should control your schizophrenia and your thoughts of self harm. The question is, will you be able to manage your meds everyday, or do you need to go somewhere they can do that for you.”

“I'll take it as prescribed,” I mumbled.

“Okay, I think with the new medicine and the therapies you should be fine here, but you need to tell us if you're not.”

I nodded.

“Alright, I will put in the new order for your pharmacy. Go back to group.”

When I got home, and got away from Mom and Paul, I went to my room and pulled out my phone. I group texted Maya and Dwight.

“They changed my meds,” I said.

“To what?” said Maya.

“Something called Latuda.”

No one said anything for a minute.

“It is an antipsychotic,” texted Dwight, “used to treat bipolar in children ten and up and schizophrenia in teens and adults.”

“Are you a walking Merric Manual?” I asked.

“No, I googled it.”

“Starting dose in teens is 40 mg and can be bumped up to 80,” texted Maya.

“Yeah they put me on twenty just to make sure I don't have a chemical reaction, and I start 40 day after tomorrow,” I said.

“What site are you on, Maya?” asked Dwight.

“Drugs.com.”

“WebMd,” texted Dwight.

“You have to take it at the same time every day,” texted Maya.

“You cant eat grapefruit,” texted Dwight.

“Damn,” I text, sarcastically.

“Or drink alcohol,” he texted.

“What? Fuck,” I texted.

“And they want you to avoid sexual activity,” texted Maya.

“That’s a lie. That’s a fucking lie!” I texted.

She sent me a smiley face.

“Does it make you have headaches?” I asked.

“Seems rare,” said Maya.

“Same here,” said Dwight. “Might make you nauseous while you're getting used to it, but should go away.”

“Great,” I said.

“You have to take it with food,” said Maya. “At least 350 cal.”

“Should help with the nausea,” said Dwight. 

“Okay,” I said. “How was school today?”

“Sucked,” said Dwight. “Ian was a jerk. I ate lunch by myself.”

“I am sorry buddy. I’m not having fun, I promise,” I said.

“You gonna tell us what sent you over an edge?” asked Maya.

I sighed. Maybe if I heard from them that Ian was a jerk it would help, or maybe they would agree with him. I took a deep breath. Rebecca put her arm around me, giving me the strength to type the words.

“I was in the bathroom, and Ian came in. He kind of implied that people with mental health issues, meaning me, were too dangerous to live, and needed” I couldn’t write the words. I felt tears prick my eyes as I typed. “To be shot so I don't hurt anyone.” I read it twice to make sure it was accurate. That is what happened but I didn’t want them to like murder Ian for me. I put “implied” in caps saying he didn’t actually say it. Finally I hit send.

Nothing happened for a minute, and one of my voices, the mean ones who I don’t really tell y'all about, told me that Maya and Dwight were going to take Ian’s side. I laid in my bed, and focused on a poster of the Eiffel Tower, and tried not to cry. Finally, there was a three-way face time between me, Maya and Dwight.

“Where are you?” Maya asked, all business like.

“Home,” I said.

“Dwight got his mom’s permission to go to the movies,” she said.

“I don’t want to see a movie,” I said. They're too loud, and they make my headaches worse.

“I know that,” she said. 

“There is a park downtown. We can all walk and talk about stuff,” said Dwight.

“I’ll pick you up in twenty minutes,” said Maya. “We have to lie to his mom, she doesn’t let him go downtown alone.”

“Okay.”

“See ya in a minute.”


	7. Chapter 7: Aversion Therapy

No one said anything on the car ride over to the park. Dwight sat in the back, and I sat up front with Maya. I think she asked him to do that, because when she got on the main drag to go downtown she reached over and grabbed my hand. I looked in the rear view mirror, and Dwight was playing a game on his phone, giving us some privacy.

I had told Mom and Paul that I told Maya and Dwight what happened and they wanted to take me to the movies, and Maya added maybe dinner. I felt bad for lying, but I figured if Dwight’s mom called my mom we needed to be consistent. But, we told Maya’s mom where we were actually going, knowing she would keep our secret and leave us alone.

When we got to the park, Maya led us to a trail, and she grabbed my hand, and grabbed Dwight’s, to make him not feel alone, and we started walking around the park.

The place was pretty and soothing. Some kids were playing on the playground near the entrance, but as we got further near the main park there was a lake surrounded by a bunch of maple trees. It was nice to be out here with my friends, real and imaginary. Rebecca was walking behind us, her long dress flowing in the wind, Mob Boss and Rupert were walking in the front and the back toting their guns, for once acting like security instead of distractions, and Jason walked to the side drinking a soda and eating a pretzel, which got me hungry. Dwight finally broke away and got in front, walking a little fast, surveying every way and processing which would be the most optimal way through the park. Maya and I just walked in the center of it all and held hands. When Dwight wasn’t looking, I kissed Maya's hand, and she squeezed it back. 

“I’m hungry,” said Dwight.

“Me too,” said Maya.

“Want to get some pretzels?” I asked.

We all got pretzels, and by all I mean all. Jason got a second one, and Rebecca got one too. Rupert and Mob Boss made a big deal about stealing theirs, which was weird, and I rolled my eyes at them.

“What?” asked Maya.

“Two of my hallucinations are mobsters and I think they just stole pretzels,” I whispered.

She laughed. “Since you know they're not real, do they know they're not real?”

“Sometimes,” I said, “It depends.”

She laughed, and put her head on my shoulder. I leaned against her and was glad she found Rupert and Mob Boss funny and not crazy.

“So you gonna tell us about them?” asked Dwight.

“You really want to know?” I asked, incredulously.

“Yeah,” said Maya.

“Well, there is a lot. There is my favorite, Rebecca. She is like a sister to me. She calms me down and holds my hand and kind of takes care of me. She is also like a diary. If I am scared, she is scared, sort of thing. Then there is kind of the weird one, Jason. He is always naked, and he talks to me all the time, like he wont shut up. But I love him.”

“Dude, that awesome,” said Dwight.

“Then there is Rupert and Mob Boss. They are kind of gangsters. When I am on my medicine they will listen to me, but sometimes they fire off guns in my head and that can get really annoying.”

“Yeah, I bet,” said Maya. “Do they do it at school?”

“Not like during class a lot, but at lunch yeah.”

She grabbed my hand and squeezed it. 

“Wait, are they the ones who just stole pretzels?” she asked.

I nodded. “Yeah, they do shit like that all the time.” I took a deep breath. I didn’t want to do this, but I needed to get it out. I hadn’t told anyone this, not even my therapist or mom, and I told mom everything. “There is this one that doesn’t have a face,” I said. “It just looks like black ink. I call it Darkness. It is the one that keeps telling me to die. He has just gotten bad since Ian, you know.”

Maya rubbed my back. “What does it tell you?”

“Shit that’s not true, but I believe it anyway. Like my dad left because of me. My mom would be better off if she didn’t have me to take care of. My grandma is going to lock me up the moment she gets a chance. Ian is right and they're going to kill me because I am dangerous. You know, stuff like that.”

“Do you tell anyone about it?” asked Maya.

“I had to because it got so bad,” I said.

“Can they do something about it?” asked Dwight.

“They are going to try this medicine and this hospitalization stuff,” I said. “But I don't know what they are going to do when it doesn't work. They will probably really lock me up then.”

Maya slapped me, hard. “Don't talk like that! Ever!"

I rubbed my cheek and just stared at her. "Did you just slap me?"

"Yes, and everytime you talk about killing yourself or some shit like that I'm gonna do it again!"

"What the hell is this?"

"Aversion therapy," she said, matter of factly.

"This is abuse!"

"I'm gonna use a nerf gun," said Dwight.

"What the hell, guys?"

"We will stop when you stop talking shit about yourself," said Maya.

"I am just repeating other people and thoughts in my own head. I thought I'm supposed to do that."

"You're supposed to tell us when people say that shit," said Dwight. "You're not supposed to believe it."

I sighed. I was going to get hit a lot.


	8. Time to Rest

The next week went pretty without incident. Paul would take me to therapy, getting me there before nine. I would sit there and do the stupid worksheets about my feelings, bored out of my mind, even though I was trying, until Britney whispered some wisecrack in my ear, that made me smile. Then Mom would come pick me up at three thirty, and take me home. She would start making dinner, which I couldn't help make, but in like fifteen minutes, Maya and Dwight would show up and we would all go to the park, or a movie, or out for food, or a museum (Maya’s idea). Then Maya would get Dwight home at six thirty and me home at seven. My parents and I would eat dinner, and I’d basically tell them I was going to bed. But, without fail, Maya would sneak into my room.

“You have cute jammies,” she said one night while I was journaling.

I looked down. “What's wrong with Superman?”

She walked over to me, and I got off the bed, putting the journal down. She got up on her tip toes and kissed me. We hugged each other for a minute and I smelled her coconut shampoo.

“Dwight is my best friend,” I said. “But if I don't get you alone soon…”

“We're alone now,” she said.

My eyes widened. “Now?”

She grinned and nodded.

I had some condoms in my nightstand. If we were quiet, I could get laid tonight. I stood up and took off my pants and put on the condom. Maya watched me hungrily. When I was ready, I looked up at her. We both kind of stood there for a minute, not knowing what to do. Then, I walked up to her and took her hand and kissed her. She kissed me back.

I took off my T-shirt and let it fall to the floor. She took off her black tank. She was wearing nothing underneath and I could feel her breast rub up against my chest when I held her. Then she took off her pajama shorts and cotton underwear. I laid her down on my bed, and we sunk into each other.

I was determined to graduate with Maya and Dwight. I don’t know why it was important it just was. I began emailing all of my teachers saying that if they would work with me, I would try to get my homework and school work done via email, and then when I got released by my doctors, I could go back.

On the way to the hospital on Tuesday, my mom got a call.

“Hello?... Yes, this is she… Yes, he is right here. May I ask what this is about?... Oh, okay. Here he is,” she handed me the phone. “Father Patrick,” she explained.

I took the phone. “Hello?”

“Adam, this is Father Patrick, how are you?”

“Fine,” I said.

“Principle Lopez got your email last night and he wanted me to respond because he thinks that we have a better connection. He just knows you as a student you know.”

“Okay,” I said.

“Adam, we really want you to focus on getting better and only come back to school when you feel ready to be in class and fully ready to go. These constant changes to your medication, having these thoughts, we don’t want you to have to focus on that and worry about a biology test at the same time.”

“I am not a danger to anyone!” I screamed.

“No, no one thinks you're a danger. We just think now is the time to focus on your health and school can come later.”

“So what am I gonna do during school days?”

“Rest.”

“Can I come to games? Can I participate in decathlon?”

“Well, you're technically not a student right now.”

“Why not?”

“Your step-father disenrolled you this morning.”

“What?”

“Like I said, we all agree now is the time to take a step back and focus on your health.”

“Did he say why?”

“I believe the doctors at the treatment facility recommended it.”

I was seeing red. Snot was pouring out of my nose and tears streamed down my cheeks. I was so angry I started to shake. Never, had I been more angry then in this moment.

I didn’t hear the man talk anymore. Mom just took the phone and said some things and hung up.

“Adam,” she said.

I was shaking so bad the car shook. Suddenly the car stopped moving and I knew mom had pulled over.

“Adam, calm down,” said my mom calmly in her death voice.

But it didn't work this time. I grabbed the gearshift and threw the car in park.

"Adam what the hell? Adam!"

I unlocked my door and walked out on the sidewalk.

"ADAM!!!" screamed my mother.

She parked the car on the side of the road, and stormed out of it. She ran up to me in her four inch heels really fast in grass which I would have been impressed if I wasn't so pissed. She caught up to me and spun me around.

"Adam Petrazelli, don't you EVER do that again. You can be killed."

"Who cares," I said.

"Excuse me?"

"I don't care, Mom."

"Oh you will care young man. Cause I care. Now get your ass in that car."

I trudged back into the car and buckled up. Mom buckled up and pulled out into traffic. 

"Adam what is going on? Is it this boy at school? Is it the fact that you don't know anyone else like you? Is the medicine wrong and stuff just overwhelming right now? Tell me what's wrong?"

I said nothing.

She sighed. "Well we can just keep doing this then."

I shrugged. "Whatever," I whispered.

"Fuck this Adam!" She said. "You are going back to the damn shrink, and you're not coming out until you talk."


	9. Follow The Evidence

We were back at the shrink's office where I was sent to before I went to group, Olivia something. I tried to get Mom to agree to shrink once a week for no hospitalizations but it wasn’t working. So after six hours with Therapy barbie, mom dragged me across town back to Hippie Olivia for another hour of talking about my feelings. I sat in the swing again, but this time Olivia didn’t ask for my reasoning which I was thankful for.

“So,” she said. “Group not going well?”

“They took me out of school!” I fumed.

“That sucks. Did they talk about it with you first?”

“No. They just called and said I wasn’t enrolled.”

“Whose decision was it?”

“My fucking stepfathers.”

“Do you think maybe it was a hard decision for him? I mean on one hand, you got friends there and you are doing well in school. One the other hand, you have someone who is making you suicidal, people know about your illness, and you have to miss so much school to get better, which is going to be stressful for you.”

“Don't I get a say in it?”

“Are you gonna take everything I just mentioned into account? Or do you just want to graduate?”

“I want to graduate with my friends,” I said.

“Yeah, I know, but what if things get worse instead of better? What if there is another shooting this year and they start talking all over again? What if you start cutting, or attempt suicide? What if that bully figures out he hurt you and he just keeps going after you?”

I sighed. All of these things actually seemed likely except for the shooting which was a bit of a stretch. It was late January, and this was one of the first high profile public school shootings in a few years, so I figured I was safe. But she was right about Ian. He had actually been like a dog with a bone with the whole crazy people should be shot thing before I was taken out school.

“When things were getting bad, did you feel safe at school?”

“I felt like I was losing my shit.”

“Yeah, that's what I figured. It is hard for you to handle feeling all isolated when you can't talk to anybody."

"I don't like talking."

"Why not?"

"It makes it real."

"The fact that you have schizophrenia?"

I nodded.

"Adam, it is real. You have schizophrenia. What are you saving yourself from denying it?"

"I'm fucked up," I whispered.

"You think that is all you are? Tell me about yourself. What are you proud of?"

"Not much."

"Try."

I rolled my eyes. "I have an eidetic memory thanks to schizophrenia so I am good at school and decathlon and crap like that."

"Okay, and schizophrenia might play a part in that but you might just be smart. What else are you proud of?"

"I'm good at cooking."

"Great," said the shrink. "What do you like to cook?"

"Little bit of everything. But I have to be supervised right now cause they think I am gonna kill myself."

"Well whenever you find yourself getting frustrated, just think that there are people who don't have people who want to look after them and they have to do this all by themselves."

I sighed. "Yeah I guess I'm lucky." I remembered the way I felt when Paul said he put the knives up to protect his “son”. I guess this could suck worse.

“Okay good at school. You like to cook. What else?”

“I have a girlfriend. Who is real.”

Olivia laughed. “I assumed she was real, Adam. What’s she like?”

“Maya? Smart. Funny, like dry humor. Practical. Secretly a romantic. Genuine cares about her friends and family. Loves to prove she's right. And loves me even though I am weird.”

“Do you love her?”

“Yeah. We texted it to each other, but we haven't said it to each other yet.”

“Do your parents know your dating?”

“Yeah, but they don’t know that she sneaks into my room, and we-” I shut up and my eyes got wide. “Oh god! You can’t say anything. They will kill us!”

“Are you being safe?”

“Of course! We’re not idiots!”

“As long as STDs are not being transmitted I don't have to tell anyone, that is the law here.”

“Really? Awesome. Maya could have killed me.”

“Okay cook, girlfriend. Is there a best friend?”

“Yeah. Dwight, we both play tennis together and we both suck at it. I think the highest score has been 15 all an hour into the match.”

She laughed.

“But he’s awesome. When I told him I was schizophrenic and on Latuda he googled what the symptoms were and started watching for side effects. Maya did too, but it was Dwight's way of looking out for me, you know.”

“Yeah.”

“Also, when I have thoughts of self harm or just low self esteem, he shoots me with a nerf gun and makes me say something different to replace the thought. It was really annoying at first but then I started catching myself, and it has gotten easier to stop thinking stuff about myself.”

“That’s great.”

“But I am not going to tell him that.”

“No, of course not.”

“I guess I have pretty good friends.”

“Yeah you have a great support group.”

“It's just the voices get so loud at times. It's hard to feel like people really care about me. Like what if I get weird and they realize how fucked up I am and they leave?”

“Let what is real trump the voices. You are being genuine with everybody. Telling them you hear things, telling them you feel bad, and no one has run screaming, but instead they are surrounding you and trying to love you. Let the evidence speak for itself when you hear those voices. The evidence is your family and friends love you even when they know how bad things are, and they don't show signs of leaving.”

“Follow the evidence” I mussed, “I can do that.”


	10. Chapter 10: Prom

It was April 24, Prom night.

Mom cared more about prom than me Maya or I did. Basically, this was a night for Claire and the parents. I couldn't even get drunk because of my medicine, but you know, we were still going to make it special. Maya wore a pink dress with criss cross spaghetti straps. I got her a wrist corsage and she rolled her eyes as I put it one her, which made me happy. She looked really beautiful, and I kissed her hand after I put the corsage on. She smiled at me, and gave me a kiss on the cheek. But that was the extent of it because we couldn't really make out in front of our parents.

Claire wore high heels, a champagne dress, mac make up, and lots of jewelry. Dwight looked a little weird standing next to her. But he gave her the classic single rose, and was rewarded with a kiss on the cheek, which made him blush, and his mom almost had an aneurysm.

After like five hundred pictures, we went to the roof and started to dance. I was an awkward dancer, and I watched my feet the first two songs because I was so worried I was going to step on Maya’s feet.

“You're not going to step on me, just look into my eyes,” she said after the second song.

I took a deep breath and stared into her eyes. We danced together and by some miracle I don’t think I stepped on her. Thankfully, after the first three songs, Paul convinced the rest of the parents that we weren’t going to fall off the roof and to let us have some privacy. They all went downstairs, and we all danced together.

“My feet kill,” said Claire.

“Yeah, and I'm hungry,” said Maya.

We led the girls to the small table where we had some finger foods. Claire and Maya took off their shoes, and we all dug into some food.

“Cupcakes,” said Dwight.

“Who was in charge of the food committee?” asked Claire.

“There wasn’t committees,” said Maya rolling her eyes, “But My mom did decorations, your mom rented the space, and Adam’s mom did the food.”

I took a bite of the cupcakes. “God these are from that bakery from 23rd street. These are amazing, they use a butter base for the icing and…”

They were all looking at me like I was talking about the specifics of string theory.

“What? I like food,” I said.

Maya laughed. “I think it's cute. How do they make the icing?”

“Butter, milk, chocolate, and sugar, but they do it in a really cool bowl that,” I looked up and saw Dwight getting ready to bust out laughing, and Maya was biting her lip. “Fuck you guys!” I turned and walked away.

Dwight just laughed out loud. I swallowed the rest of the cupcake and went over to the other side of the roof where I could hang out and relax.

“Adam,” said Maya behind me. “Come on it's funny.”

“Y’all think I’m gay.”

“That’s not what we're saying,” she said. “I actually like that you get so into it. It makes me not worry about you so much.”

What? I turned around and looked at her sideways. “What do you mean?”

“Well,” she sighed. “Ever since the whole Sandy Hook thing you have been lost. Its like nothing can reach you. You're in your world, and we can’t find you and pull you back into ours. And when they tell us that you're, you know, not getting better, and they want you to take some time off school, and spend some more time in the hospital, I’m scared. I’m not scared of you, I'm scared I'm gonna lose you. So when we all hang out and tease you about knowing what goes into the fucking cupcakes, it’s like, I know your gonna be okay.”

I sighed. “So you're worried I’m crazy.”

“No, I know you're crazy. Your best friends with Dwight.”

I snorted.

“I’m worried you like it. The cutting, the Darkness, and that its gonna take over and I can’t save you.”

“Maya, you're not supposed to ‘save’ me.”

“Then what am I supposed to do?”

Sighing, I looked at her and saw that she was not angry, not scarred, not sad, but curious like a scientist. She was gathering evidence on what I wanted her to be in my life.

“Everyone looks at me and sees something,” I said. “A monster, a freak, a victim, a psych patient. What do you see?”

“Someone I love,” she said.

I closed my eyes and let that wash over me. I was just a lovable human being to her.

“When things are bad, and I am acting crazy, I need to hear that. Just tell me that you love me until I get it. And don't give up on me, please.”

“I won't.”

We kissed. We walked hand in hand back over to Claire and Dwight.

“Dude,” asked Dwight, “what’s in the brownies?”

I gave him the finger.


End file.
